


A Cursed Blessing

by paranoid_fridge



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Dark, Rape, Soulmates, please beware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:45:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoid_fridge/pseuds/paranoid_fridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Rivendell, Fili and Kili discover that Kíli bears a mark, proclaiming Bilbo to be his soulmate. Hobbits, however, do not have soulmates - and neither does Bilbo feel romantically attracted to Kili. But rejection by their one causes dwarves to wither and die, and Fili is not willing to sit by and watch that happen. Survival instincts and gold sickness do the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please heed the warnings - this is graphic, violent and very dark. 
> 
> Also: the characters aren't mine, and the plot isn't either - this was originally written and posted on the hobbit kink_meme (http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/8973.html?thread=19727885#t19727885), and has since been looked over a slight bit. Still, if you do find mistakes, let me know.

When the troll flings Bilbo at Kili, something hot and cold and burning races down his spine. He goes down with the hobbit in his arms, half from the force of impact, half from shock weakening his knees. He is dizzy, his heart races, and when he looks at Bilbo to ascertain whether the hobbit is unharmed, he finds his breath taken away.

Even covered in troll snot, the hobbit looks incredibly beautiful.

There is no time to contemplate this revelation, as the rest of the company bursts from the trees and the trolls roar in anger. Kili jumps up and rushes back into the fray, with his heart in his throat and his chest filled with a surprising amount of elation.

(Later he will think it was the rush of battle).

***

He finds himself watching Bilbo after that. The hobbit is, he admits to himself, quite pleasant to look at. In the sun those curls glow in shades of gold and copper and his eyes sparkle green. While Kili initially found the lack of a beard irritating, he now wonders if the skin on Bilbo's cheeks is as soft as it looks.

And if, at night, his hands wander further down under the cover of his blankets, nobody knows who exactly he is thinking about.

It is a bit embarrassing, especially since nobody else of the company seems to share Kili's appreciation of the hobbit, but he does not mind. Nobody needs to know, after all, and already earlier he found that his own tastes run into a different direction than from what most dwarves consider attractive.

So he keeps watching and stores those images of Bilbo astonished, gazing in wonder, frightened, contemplative or laughing to later draw private joy from them.

***

It is in Rivendell that things change. In spite of the cold beginning, they are all rather grateful for a chance to wind down and freshen up. Cold rivers are better suited to short bathes, and dirt only really comes off from hot water, soap and long soaks.

Kili is scrubbing down his torso, when Fili's voice cuts through his humming. "What's that?"

He is pointing at a spot on Kili’s shoulder. He twists, and barely makes out the shape of a black tattoo on his skin, and grasps his brush in order to scrub harder. He must have gotten quite filthy for the dirt to become this black, though the shape is curious.

But even under water it does not budge, and under his fingers Kili’s feels nothing but his own skin. Now, with most of the dirt removed, it looks more like a tattoo and less like a stain.

Fili steps closer. “Did you get a tattoo?”

“No,” Kili replies, “I didn’t…”

It's black and clear and beautiful, and it certainly has not been there before. There is a fleeting similarity to Dwalin's tattoos, but Kili would certainly remember getting one.

They both marvel at the intricate pattern and runes, too awed at its appearance to decipher its meaning. Until, after a while, Fili mutters a word.

"Oh, that’s it!" he exclaims, "It’s a soulmark."

Kili blinks, faintly recalling the lessons. Soulmarks are incredibly rare, almost legendary. They appear upon the meeting of the One - the one love, the soulmate, the being that will complete the other. Few dwarves have a designated One, nowadays, and fewer still bear soulmarks. Even Gloin, dedicated to his wife as he is, bears no such mark.

"That is incredible," Fili breathes, and Kili can't find any words. A wide grin spreads over his face, and his cheeks hurt.

They can barely contain their joy at the discovery long enough to throw on some clothes and rush out to inform their uncle and the rest of the company. Thorin smiles proudly and Dwalin pats Kili on the back, Balin marvels at the rarity and everybody congratulates Kili.

Though before they can actually get down to deciphering the runes - a very ancient, very artistic rendering of Khuzdul, Balin confirmed, they have to leave Rivendell all of a sudden. The path through the mountains is steep and tricky, and the weather makes certain Kili's mark remains hidden.

He feels quite tired, but everybody does, and it probably causes Thorin's explosion at Bilbo. The hobbit is no clumsier than any other member of the company, and truly, anybody could have fallen. A part of him wants to reach out to their burglar and reassure him.

But at first he is too tired, and then there are goblins.

***

It is at Beorn's that Balin calls Fili, Kili and Thorin together.

"I have deciphered the runes," he announces, and somehow he does not look overly joyful, almost hesitant. Neither Fili nor Kili take notice of it.

"What do they say?" Fili asks, breathless. Even Thorin leans forward.

Kili recapitulates all his fantasies. Maybe it is a young, beautiful lass he only saw in passing in one of the villages, maybe a healthy lad. Maybe somebody of this company, though he has found this strangely uncomfortable to think about.

Whoever it is, Kili can’t stop smiling.

Balin clears his throat. "The runes spell Master Baggin's name."

Kili blinks. All go deadly silent for a heartbeat. Then Fili exclaims a loud "what?"; Thorin growls under his breath and Kili stares at the tabletop in dumbfounded silence.

Bilbo Baggins his soulmate? The notion itself is easier to accept than it should be. For all the Bilbo is no dwarf, Kili likes him, gets along with him, and – though he has never said it aloud – thinks him attractive.

It is just that Bilbo is no dwarf. And Kili knows that this has never happened before, knows that there are many that will not accept it.

Balin quells the uproar. "I know this is unusual, and I can't recall if there has ever been a case in which the soulmate has not been a dwarf," he says, "But the translation is, without a doubt, correct."

Thorin frowns. "Could it not be somebody else by the same name?"

Somebody who is a dwarf, Kili adds to his uncle’s words in his own mind, and finds his chest protests the notion. It is not hard to guess, that even with his newfound fondness of the burglar, Thorin does not deem him a match worthy of his nephew.

Balin shakes his head. "You know those marks only come into being once contact has been established - when the soul recognizes its other."

There is very poetic phrase in Khuzdul that describes the moment. Kili recalls the hot and cold sparks, and in hindsight can determine the exact moment his soul found its partner. Thorin may not be happy, but Kili is.

Shocking the revelation may be, yet the echo in his heart names it true. The quivering anticipation that has filled his chest ever since he first saw the mark is unraveling, evening out, and he feels calm, complete. He knows that Balin’s translation is correct – he can feel it in his soul.

So when he finally wrenches his gaze from the table, there is a smile on his face. “It’s true,” he tells Thorin, Balin and Fili, “Bilbo is my soulmate. I know it.”

Fili breaks into a bright grin and claps Kili on the shoulder. "I like Bilbo," he tells Kili, "I think he'll make a good partner."

Balin chuckles, shaking his head. “It is quite unusual, but I see no reason to doubt this. All the best to you, lad.”

Thorin has closed his eyes for a moment, but when he looks at Kili, his expression is fond. “I do, too,” he tells Kili, “Though the burglar may not be one of us, having a soulmate is good fortune. I could not wish anything better for you.”

And for the first time in a very long while, Kili feels so happy that he thinks he must cry.

***

Later that night – after they have shared a private toast on Kili’s good lot – he lies awake, listening to the wind going through the trees outside, thinking about telling Bilbo and finds he can’t sleep. From his breathing pattern, Fili, too, remains awake, so Kili turns over and looks to his brother.

"Do you think hobbits have soulmates too?" he asks.

"I don't know," Fili replies after a moment, "But they probably do. Otherwise his name wouldn't have shown up on your mark."

"True," Kili agrees, "You think he knows?"

With Bilbo it is hard to tell. Perhaps the hobbit has been aware of the fact that Kili is his destined one all along, and just never spoken up either from shyness or politeness. They have little idea of how the Shire treats the soulmate business.

Fili shrugs. "You should speak to him. Or I could, if you're too scared."

Kili shakes his head. "I will. I just have to find the right moment."

Finding the right moment is more difficult than expected. Thorin is gazing east, and they are all aware that their departure grows nearer. Preparations take time; clothes have to mended, blades sharpened and provisions gathered. And Bilbo is rarely on his own, either.

***

Eventually, though, he manages to find Bilbo alone. The hobbit is out in Beorn's garden, seated atop a small hill, enjoying bread and honey while gazing at the spectacular landscape. The soft grass, dotted with colorful wildflowers, bends in the breeze, and beyond rise the snow-covered peaks of the Misty Mountains. The air is warm, and tastes of summer.

"As mad as this adventure has turned out," Bilbo says apropos of nothing, "I do not regret coming. Had I stayed home, I would have never seen a place as beautiful as this."

Kili nods. Had Bilbo not come he'd have never recognized his soulmate. And dwarves, or so the legend goes, that have a soulmate but cannot join them, rarely live long or happily.

"I think we're all rather glad you came, too," Kili replies.

Bilbo ducks his head and Kili thinks the blush coloring his cheeks is rather adorable. Kili smiles, crosses the distance and sits down next to the hobbit. The sun has warmed the ground, and the moss is soft.

"Actually," Kili begins after a moment, and he can't help that his heart is in his throat, "I meant to speak with you..."

"Certainly," Bilbo replies with an inviting smile, "Ask me anything."

Kili looks down at his hands. His heart is pounding and he can't remember ever having felt this nervous. "I, well, I was wondering... Do hobbits have soulmates?"

Bilbo raises an eyebrow, perhaps a bit taken aback at the question, "No, we don't. At least I've never heard of such a thing."

Something inside Kili crumbles. The words refuse to make sense, but this could be terrible. He feels faint, but presses on. "But has a hobbit been a soulmate of somebody else? An elf perhaps?"

Bilbo shakes his head energetically. "Some of the young lads and lasses have picked up the idea, but it doesn't really happen to hobbits. Why? Do dwarves have soulmates?"

Kili swallows down the obstacle that is threatening to choke him. He can't reply, but he manages to nod.

"Oh, that must be wonderful," Bilbo comments airily, before he catches sight of Kili's face. He must be looking horrible, Kili knows, but he can't bring himself to hide his terror.

"Kili?" Bilbo asks, concerned, "What..."

And then Kili can see the pieces fall into place. Bilbo's eyes widen with sudden understanding, and while he does not flinch back, it is not a smile that breaks out on his face.

Instead, Bilbo swallows, and his voice trembles underneath its calm tone, "There is one. One of you dwarves has a hobbit for a soulmate..."

"It's you," Kili bursts out. His voice hitches, even though he isn't crying. Not yet - he pain in his chest is too sharp, too violent.

Bilbo has grown pale. "And the dwarf is...."

Kili glares at him.

"You?" Bilbo asks, looking shocked, and Kili feels betrayed. This is not how the soulmate business is supposed to work. Having a soulmate is supposed to bring happiness and contentment, not pain. Bilbo was supposed to feel the same, to have known just the way Kili did. Not to sit there and stare at him with wide-eyes.

Bilbo visibly swallows. “Is that… is a soulmate like family?” he asks, and his voice trembles, “Or is it … is it meant romantically?”

Kili’s throat is tight, and he barely manages to bite out the words. “A soulmate is a lover.”

"Kili, I ... that is... I don't know what ..." Bilbo stutters, and Kili feels his eyes begin to burn. Fury and grief mix in his stomach, and a part of him curses Bilbo for his obliviousness, curses this entire soulmate business.

"I'm..." Bilbo's voice trembles and then he wraps his arms around Kili, unable to stand the desolate expression on Kili's face, "I'm so sorry, Kili."

He has no idea how his words are tearing wounds into Kili's heart. "I, I like you. A lot, really," Bilbo continues, "But I don't know anything about this soulmate business… I, I don't want to hurt you, but you're like, like ... a cousin? I ... I'm sorry?"

Kili collapses against Bilbo. A few tears manage to trickle through his lashes, no matter how hard he fights to suppress them. He feels like punching Bilbo and pulling him closer at the same time, but most of all he feels pain as his chest is torn apart.

Bilbo raises a trembling hand and soothingly rubs it over his hair, and the fact that the gesture will never mean more is like a knife in Kili's heart. He needs to get away, but right now he can't even stand.

"Maybe," Bilbo begins awkwardly, "This is some odd error. I have heard that happens - maybe you will meet a beautiful dwarf lady once you have reclaimed your mountain."

Kili swallows. The hobbit has no idea how soulmates work.

"It would make more sense, and probably end up much better for everybody involved," Bilbo continues.

He pats Kili's shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up, but Kili can only glare. "It doesn't work that way," he hisses, and Bilbo falls silent.

“It doesn’t,” he echoes, defeated.

“No,” Kili adds and pulls himself up to gaze at Bilbo, though tears keep blurring his vision. But he doesn’t care, not when his heart aches fiercely, and he wants nothing more than for Bilbo to take back what he has said, “No. Soulmates love each other,” he says, “And I love you, Bilbo, I do.”

The hobbit flinches, and Kili grasps him by the arms. “I do,” he repeats, “And there can’t be a mistake – you are meant to be with me. It’s written on my skin. Don’t you have some odd mark somewhere? Maybe you just didn’t realize…”

Bilbo shakes his head. He is trying to withdraw, but Kili’s hands clench tighter. “I don’t, I don’t have one,” Bilbo mutters, “I would know. Please, I … I just don’t know.”

“But you like me,” Kili insists, voice choked “You said so earlier.”

“Yes, yes,” Bilbo stutters, “And I do, but I… it’s … it’s not romantic.”

A sharp pain races through Kili’s chest, and he slumps forward, releasing Bilbo from the fierce hold. He gasps for air, though his lungs refuse to work, and through the haze he barely hears Bilbo call his name.

When the spell is over, Kili feels numb, exhausted and utterly lifeless. Bilbo is watching him with fear in his eyes.

“Kili,” he asks, “Are you alright?”

Underneath it all Kili senses a deep, burning fury and frustration. But he cannot handle it now. Instead, he glares at Bilbo. “No,” he says, and is satisfied to see the hobbit jump.

“Can I …” Bilbo begins, but Kili shakes his head.

“Either accept that you are my soulmate,” he utters, “Or leave me alone!”

(And if his voice breaks on those last words, nobody but Bilbo is there to hear it.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest continues, and Kili weakens. Fili takes action in order to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very big thank you to everybody who has read, left kudos and commented so far! I've moved to a different city for a job, and am currently quite lacking in social interaction - so this makes me feel a little less cut off. :)
> 
> Warnings: Non-con kissing in this chapter. Things will steadily grow darker from here on.

Kili avoids telling Fili and Thorin of the disastrous encounter. Bilbo stays out of his way, and it isn’t long before they leave Beorn’s. Fili, of course, notices his moodiness and growing depression, and Kili begins to wish that his brother wasn’t so attuned to his feelings.

(Because, of course, he must be the one dwarf whose soulmate refuses to recognize him. Not only can’t he grow a proper beard, but also manages to mess up one of the greatest blessings that can be bestowed upon their kind).

Mirkwood is more of a distraction than even Kili had wished for. The unease in his heart is joined by a physical unease stemming from the forest's oppressive atmosphere, the still air and the suffocating silence. Hunger and paranoia become familiar, and he is almost glad once the elves capture them.

In the cell it become obvious just how hard the forest has been on all of them. Their faces are pale, haggard and Kili feels even more exhausted than before. But while Fili and Ori slowly recover their stamina, Kili stays thin and worn – it is more than just physical wear, he begins to realize, but somehow finds he does not care.

It is after Bilbo has just disappeared into the darkness of Mirkwood's dungeons once again, that Fili turns to face him.

"Are you not courting?" he asks.

Kili averts his gaze, ashamed. He knows that the rejection is not his fault, yet he has not brought himself to discuss it with anybody. It feels too personal, too similar to his other "failures".

He shakes his head.

"You ought to," Fili tells him, "It's eating you up, everybody can tell. You don't have to wait until the quest's done and over with - you need to start now."

Ori nods along frantically. "Some of the histories state that soulmates can help each other recover physically."

And suddenly Kili recalls being angry. Everybody is looking at him with wide eyes, with expectation - they think he must be so happy, that he is in such an enviable position.

"Well, that's a bit difficult as my soulmate does not love me," he bites back, "Did you know, hobbits don't have soulmates?"

"What?" Ori stutters, the moment that Fili grabs Kili by the shoulders and shouts, "He doesn't love you?!"

Kili can only nod.

"But, but," Fili sputters, "It's his name on your skin. Balin said there was nobody else - he has to love you!"

"But he doesn't," Kili yells, "He was rather surprised to hear of the entire soulmate business and quite sorry, but he rather views me as a cousin."

"But he..." Fili trails off and looks to Ori. The other dwarf shrugs his shoulders. "I've never heard of anything like this happening," he admits.

"Maybe he just hasn't realized it," Fili resolves, "If he has never heard of it ... Just give it time, Kili, and he will come to you."

Kili doesn’t think so. But both, Ori and his brother, are too steeped in dwarvish traditions to even imagine these to go wrong.

Instead, he leans back with a sigh and closes his eyes. Unconsciousness is quick to take him.

***

Bilbo does come to them, but it is in order to break them out of their dungeons. Fili hovers between gratitude and anger - once more the burglar saves their lives, yet at the same time Bilbo has hurt his little brother. Quite steep deeds for such a little person.

One barrel ride later they are in Laketown. Bilbo is struck down with a bad cold, but while he recovers, Kili's condition steadily worsens. By now his appetite has all but disappeared, and by the third day he cannot leave the bed anymore.

Fili is scared.

His brother is fading - it may be an elvish thing, but there is no other word. His soulmate has rejected him, and now his body is slowly but certainly shutting down. The spark in Kili's eyes has dimmed to a twinkle, his skin is white, and Fili is afraid to wake in the night and find his chest still and unmoving.

By nightfall, Kili has lost consciousness.

The company is out celebrating with the master. That is, all, but for him, Kili and Bilbo, and while there is nobody Fili can ask for help, there is something he can do.

***

"Fili," Bilbo greets. He sits next to the fireplace, wrapped in several layers of blankets with a book on his lap. His face remains pale and thin, but he looks far livelier than Kili and for a moment Fili is angry.

He swallows down the burning fury, though some may show on his face. "Come with me," he tells Bilbo.

The hobbit blinks in surprise and Fili's cold tone, but unwraps himself and stands.

"Is something the matter?" he asks, as he follows behind Fili.

Fili snorts. "Did it ever occur to you, Master Baggins, to think about just what you were doing to my brother when you rejected him?"

The poison in his words is not near enough. He longs to shake Bilbo until he sees sense, but can't, so he throws open the door and reveals Kili, breathing shallowly under layers of blankets.

"Kili!" Bilbo explains and stumbles in, "What happened to him?"

With wide, innocent eyes he looks to Fili and all he wants is to wring the hobbit's neck.

"You, Master Baggins," he replies, "You are killing my brother. I hope you are happy now."

Bilbo pales. "What? How?"

"Are you really so slow?" Fili yells, "Did you never stop to think what would happen if his soulmate rejected him?"

"But that can't be..." Bilbo mutters faintly, "I..."

"But that is the truth. I think you are probably familiar enough with elvish lore to recognize the pattern," Fili says sharply.

Bilbo sways on his feet, before he steps to the bed.

Kili's face is drawn, and Fili realizes they are running out of time. He cannot dally any longer - so he reaches for the dagger on his hip.

Bilbo turns, "What do I have to..." he catches sight of the dagger in Fili's hand and trails of. Fearfully, he steps back, and bumps against the bed.

"Kiss him," Fili tells him, "Kiss him and tell him you love him and you'd better mean it, because I won't forgive you if he dies."

He aims he blade at Bilbo's chest so the hobbit cannot possibly mistake his meaning.

And indeed, Bilbo visibly gathers himself. He turns, and gently brushes a wayward strand of hair out of Kili's face. Soothing noises turn into words - no outright declaration of love, but certainly one of caring and affection.

Fili remains tense, watches as his brother's face slowly relaxes. Bilbo leans over to press a light kiss to Kili's brow, and Fili frowns.

"On the lips," he orders, "You aren't putting a child to bed. You have to proove you love him."

Bilbo glares at him. But he does not want Kili to die either, and as long as Fili is blocking the exit with a dagger, he has little choice.

Bilbo intends the kiss to be gentle. A touching of lips, nothing more. He has not expected Kili to surge up abruptly, to bury one hand in Bilbo's hair and fix him in place regardless of any need for air.

Fili jumps in surprise, and his brother pulls the hobbit off his feet, his second arm wrapping itself around Bilbo's torso, and instead of averting his eyes Fili watches his brother take what he needs with a deep sense of relief.

Maybe Bilbo will change his mind. The hobbit is an odd creature – perhaps he is simply scared and needs some prodding to get used to the idea. Perhaps this can have a happy ending.

When Kili lets go, he is, strangely enough, still unconscious. Yet his breath comes easier, and his cheeks are regaining color by the moment. Bilbo, on the other hand is flushed, and needs several moments to find his feet again.

He glances between Fili and Kili, something between insecurity, fear and anger flickering in his eyes. Fili feels sorry – he does like their hobbit after all, and drawing the dagger was probably too much, though he won’t apologize for being angry on his brother’s behalf.

“Thank you,” he tells Bilbo.

The hobbit says nothing, but hurries from the room as fast as his legs carry him.

*** 

Though Kili breathes easier and seems out of immediate danger, Fili does not sleep that night. Instead he stares at the ceiling and wonders about fate and what he has done, and finds nothing makes sense.

As his soulmate, Bilbo is supposed to love Kili. There is little doubt that Kili adores him – in hindsight Fili can tell that Kili has been overly fond of their burglar right from the start – but it does not make sense Bilbo does not. And it’s not as if he did not like Kili –

Either the mark is wrong or the hobbit is, and in all ages Fili has never heard of a mark being wrong.

With that in his mind, he seeks out Bilbo early the next morning and draws him out of the house. The hobbit is wary at first, last night’s encounter still fresh on his mind, but eventually agrees to join Fili for a walk around Laketown.

It is a beautiful morning, with the air cold and the sky clear. The water glitters enticingly, and Fili finds his gaze drawn to the Lonely Mountain more often than not. Bilbo looks into the same direction, though he looks nervous.

“Do you think the dragon is dead?” he asks Fili.

The dwarf shrugs. “Dragons live for a very long time,” he says, “But Smaug hasn’t been seen in sixty years. Even for a dragon, that is long. But I don’t know.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Bilbo says, and while he tries to chuckle, his eyes betray his anxiety.

Fili does pity him then. “We’ll have your back,” he promises, “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for last night. I shouldn’t have… treated you like that.”

Bilbo closes his eyes. “It’s … I guess it’s alright, but I … Well, is Kili better this morning?”

“He is,” Fili answers, “It helped.”

“I’m glad it did,” Bilbo says, though he sounds unhappy, “It’s just… it was … a bit uncomfortable.”

He shudders, and Fili frowns. Soulmarks are not wrong, he knows that, but it seems to be difficult to convince Bilbo of this.

“Even though you like my brother?” he asks.

Bilbo sighs unhappily. “Yes. You like him, too, and you wouldn’t kiss him like that, would you?”

“I’m not his soulmate,” Fili counters.

“And I don’t like him like a lover would,” Bilbo says, “Look, I honestly don’t wish ill onto anybody, but I don’t love him like that. Please understand that. And, truly, it wouldn’t make sense, would it?”

Bilbo shakes his head, turning his gaze out to the water before he continues, “I mean, he is a dwarf and I am a hobbit. Who has ever heard of something like that? Elves and men, yes, that happens, but dwarf and hobbit? No, and I doubt Thorin and the others would accept it either.”

“Thorin knows,” Fili says, quietly, “And he congratulated Kili for it. Soulmarks are a very rare blessing for our people.”

Bilbo pales and looks despondently at Fili. “But … that is cruel,” he says, “Even if … even if I were to return your brother’s affections… hobbits, we don’t live that long. And Kili is still so young…”

It is a valid protest. Something that has been gnawing at the back of Fili’s mind ever since he first learned the runes on his brother’s shoulder spelled Bilbo’s name.

“How long?” he asks.

“A hundred is considered a good age,” Bilbo replies.

Fili’s heart sinks. Even should Bilbo return his brother’s affections, they would have less than a century with each other. For a destined pair of soulmates, this is cruel.

He sighs deeply. “I see your point,” he tells Bilbo, unhappily, “And I beg you, look into your heart and find its true feelings. Soulmarks never lie.”

***

Bilbo is left reeling. With each morning Kili fails to join them for meals, his heart grows heavier. And he has tried, truly, to imagine Kili as a lover. He would be enthusiastic, he thinks, enthusiastic and full of love and laughter. Heart-warming, but all Bilbo wants to do is wrap himself around the young dwarf and protect him.

There is no desire in his feelings. No romantic inclination.

When, one rare evening, he feels a stirring in his loins, he summons up a picture of Kili – he finds the fire in his veins dying out, replaced by a sheer wave of affection. Bilbo closes his eyes; no matter what the dwarves think, the feelings in his heart are not romantic. He cannot think of Kili as a lover.

Still that cursed soulmark seems to make Kili suffer, and Bilbo wishes it wasn’t so, wishes his feelings were different, but there is nothing he can do.

And in the meantime Kili’s condition worsens once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili's condition worsens to a point his survival instincts kick in. Fili is not going to let him die either, and while Bilbo certainly doesn't want Kili to die, what is being asked for is too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape in this chapter. Please beware!!!
> 
> (Otherwise: thank you very, very much for reading, commenting and kudoing. It makes this grey November brighter)

Fili watches in growing worry as his brother’s breathing grows ever more shallow, and he remains unconscious. He wishes he had a book to consult, but they are in Laketown, and he is hesitant to question Balin. For, upon learning that hobbits have no soulmates, the old dwarf had merely frowned and said “that is unlucky”, without commenting on the repercussions on Kili.

And a part of Fili hates him for it, because isn't Balin supposed to give advise? What kind of advise is "that is unlucky" supposed to be? Shall he just stand by and watch his brother die?

Thorin is less cryptic. “Is Kili still not better,” he asks one evening, “I thought you said you did something.”

Around them, the members of the company present are making merry. They are all in constant good cheer now - convinced Kili will recover from what Fili suggested was a head cold, and Bilbo merely needs some quiet to wind down. 

Fili bites his lip. “I did,” he says, “But it may not be enough. As long as Master Baggins doesn’t acknowledge Kili as his soulmate…”

“But you said he has promised to do his best to save Kili’s life?” Thorin questions.

Fili nods.

“Then talk to him again,” Thorin orders, “Find a way – if there is somebody who can do it, it is you.”

***

"You need to kiss him again," Fili tells Bilbo. If his voice is a bit louder than usual - well, the other members of the company are, once again, absent. 

Bilbo frowns, but allows Fili to drag him along. "I see – but you know I don’t feel about him like that."

"Yes, but Kili is your soulmate - look, it makes him physically sick if you aren't with him," Fili says and pushes Bilbo into the room with an extra hard shove.

The hobbit stumbles and catches himself on the bed. "And who decided that? How is it that my fate should be decided by a soulmark I don't even bear?"

"You'd let my brother die?" Fili asks, incensed.

Bilbo falters. "I want nothing of that sort. But are you even certain this soulmate business is the reason? I like your brother, but not like that, and don't you think it's a bit unbalanced, if I don't even get a say in this?"

Fili frowns. "Yes, but if you did love him this wouldn't even be a problem."

"But I don't!" Bilbo shouts.

"So you will let him die?" Fili returns – and if he is angry, it is not his fault.

"No, I will not. I just..." Bilbo protests, but Fili takes a step forward, cutting the argument short.

"Then do," he tells Bilbo, "We're out of other options."

Bilbo closes his eyes. His shoulders slump in defeat, and Fili feels sorry for him. He wishes this wasn't such a problem - and he is aware that he is asking too much of their burglar. But the other alternative is completely unacceptable, so he will soil his hands by forcing Bilbo into this.

The hobbit turns, bends down and softly touches his lips to Kili's. The gesture is full of care - Bilbo honestly doesn't wish any ill on Kili, no more than Fili wishes any on Bilbo. And yet fate has trapped them into this nightmare.

"It's fated," Fili shouts, "It's intended to be so, and you are a fool to protest it."

Bilbo turns, and there is fire in his eyes as well. "But it is not my fate, and I think this is a horrible idea! Whatever is making him sick is – “

A gasp from Kili cuts him off. Both he and Fili whirl around, only to see Kili twitching violently on the bed, eyes open but unseeing, hands reaching out blindly.

“Kili?!” Fili calls out, panicked, “Kili, what is it? Calm down! Kili!”

He tries to reach out, but Kili’s hand almost smacks into his face, and he doesn’t understand this sudden fit, Kili has never had something like this before, and it looks terrible. Fili is afraid, but they are alone, not even Oin is there, and he does not know how to help.

“Kili,” Bilbo shouts, too, and Kili’s head whips into the direction of his voice.

Kili’s hands reach for the hobbit, and Bilbo gently takes hold of Kili’s hand. Only to have it close like vice around his own and haul him onto the bed. The hobbit struggles, hits a knee against the bedframe and curses, and Fili can only watch in growing terror.

“Kili!” he calls again, but his brother does not listen. His eyes are dead – no spark of recognition in them and Fili does not know if he is actually conscious, “Kili.”

“Kili, let…,” Bilbo yells, interrupted by a pained squeak, “Let me go! Kili!”

He tries to jerk his arm back, but Kili has an unforgiving grip around his upper arm, and pulls him right against his own body. Bilbo kicks out, but hits air, and Kili – on instinct – lodges his ankle around Bilbo’s other leg and makes him tumble right onto Kili’s chest.

“Bil – Kili!” Fili shouts, “Kili, wake up!”

His brother does not listen, instead wraps his second arm around Bilbo’s waist, pinning the squirming hobbit in place.

“Fili!” Bilbo calls, gasping, “Fili, help!”

Fili’s heart is in his throat and he doesn’t understand what is happening or why it is, or what he can do. His brother’s grip is unrelenting, and he is deaf to all, and Bilbo is squirming and struggling, and finally manages to get a hand free. He blindly strikes at Kili’s face, but the dwarf doesn’t even notice, while Fili flinches back.

Then Bilbo gets hold of Kili’s hair and pulls, and a pained sound leaves his brother’s throat and Fili’s heart clenches and he doesn’t know what to do. Bilbo is fighting to get loose, but Kili doesn’t let go, is desperate to keep him close, and maybe he needs this, maybe this will satisfy the soulmark and let his brother heal.

“Bilbo, calm down,” he shouts to the hobbit, “Just calm down, please!”

Bilbo’s movements cease, and he looks at Fili from where is pressed against Kili’s chest. He is scared, deeply scared, and Fili wants to tell him that everything will be alright and –

Kili’s hand slips under the waistline of Bilbo’s trousers.

The hobbit squeaks, and tries to get away, but he can’t, and he shouts for Fili to help, “Please, please! Fili!” And Fili stands there, petrified, because his brother doesn’t even hear them.

(And he prays that Kili will find what he needs so that this can be over.)

“Let me go!” Bilbo screams, “Stop this! Kili! Fili!”

When he lashes out, it’s blind, and he doesn’t realize that his fingernails scratch up the skin of Kili’s face very close to his left eye. Kili flinches from the pain, and Bilbo only digs his nails in harder. Blood wells up, and panic blossoms in Fili’s chest.

“Bilbo, stop!” he shouts, “Calm down! Stop that! You’re – just let Kili-“

“No!” the hobbit cries, “No, stop this, stop, stop! Fili!”

“Bilbo, don’t panic!” Fili calls, frantic. The hobbit’s nails are inching closer to his brother’s eye, and Fili is afraid, and Kili isn’t moving, isn’t defending himself, and Bilbo doesn’t even realize what he is doing.

“No!” Bilbo gasps, but before his hand can slip, Fili is there. With a soft thud the hilt of his dagger hits Bilbo’s brow and the hobbit slumps over. The hand drops away from Kili’s face, leaving a bloody trail in its wake, and Kili uses the pliancy to flip them over.

Not only Bilbo’s trousers have been ruffled. Fili sees now that in the struggle the hobbit’s shirt has ridden up, exposing the soft skin of his belly, before Kili leans down to cover it. Bilbo’s eyes are open, but unseeing, and he looks like a doll and Fili’s stomach twists.

He turns away, swallowing down the dread. What he did was necessary, he tells himself, Bilbo will understand. Bilbo likes Kili. He wouldn’t want to have accidentally taken out Kili’s eye, either.

Behind him he hears fabric rip, and he closes his eyes.

Bilbo is Kili’s soulmate. This is an exception. It will all be alright in the end.

Kili grunts, and fabric rustles. The bed squeaks and Fili wants to run away. He isn’t supposed to be here. This is not his mess. This isn’t …

But he cares too much to leave here, and he needs his brother to recover, and he wants to make certain Bilbo comes out of this alright, too, so he forces himself to turn back and almost recoils. Kili, in his mindless obsession, has ripped Bilbo’s clothes to shreds, and his own sex is exposed.

The organ is erect and quite large compared to Bilbo’s much smaller body.

Dread pools in Fili’s chest.

The hobbit is still out of it, but as Fili watches his eyes clear again, and when he realizes the situation he screams. Fili flinches at the desperate sound, and he really, really does not want to be there any longer, he wants to run far, far away, and it is a miracle nobody has come by already.

Bilbo is struggling desperately against the hold Kili has on him, not caring any longer if he hurts himself, but Fili can’t allow this to happen, so he finds himself stepping forward, calling out to Bilbo, telling him to calm down, to relax.

And finds tear-filled eyes fixed on him, wide with fear and desperation and “Fili, make him stop, please!”

“Bilbo,” Fili mutters, “Just… I’m sorry, just, just let him. It’ll be alright, I promise you, just…”

Bilbo is shaking his head frantically, “No, please, Fili, no! Kili! Stop!”

Kili makes a strange noise in the back of his throat, and lowers his head. Bilbo twists away in the last moment, and Fili can only guess what his brother is doing to the crook of Bilbo’s neck. He is glad he cannot see their lower bodies.

Bilbo abruptly jerks, tries to buck Kili off, but it does nothing. He flings out a hand to reach for something, anything, and Fili catches it by the wrist.

“Fili…” Bilbo whispers, and now there are tears on his face, “Please…”

Fili swallows – his heart is trembling, and he doesn’t quite know what he is doing anymore. But then he presses Bilbo’s hand, gently but firm, back against the pillow. The hobbit’s eyes widen, and a sob escapes his throat.

“Please, please…” he begs, and Fili doesn’t want to watch, but he can’t turn away either.

Instead he runs a hand through Bilbo’s hair, because some corner of his mind wants the hobbit to calm down, to just relax. Maybe it won’t be that bad then, maybe it’ll all be over sooner. He doesn’t want this to happen, doesn’t want to watch, but if this is necessary to save Kili’s life –

Bilbo is crying silently, head turned aside, and Fili is so distracted by his own horror, that he does not notice how the struggles intensify, how his brother’s body tenses – until abruptly Bilbo arches his spine and his mouth opens in a voiceless scream.

Fili’s stomach revolts. He lets go off Bilbo’s hand and bolts over to the water closet, barely making it in time before he is retching, coughing and ridding his body of today’s breakfast. Behind him, the noises continue; squeaking springs and odd grunts from his brother, and Fili is left gasping for air, pain in his chest and heart.

He wants to curl into a ball, block out the world and disappear; wants to break down and cry and wants this all to be over.

When he turns, he sees that Bilbo has lost consciousness. The body is bouncing with each of Kili’s thrusts.

And Fili is promptly sick again.

***

There is no memory more horrifying than those moments. Dwarves can last long compared to other races, Fili has known this.

But it had always been a reason to boast, or a point in salacious jokes.

It had never been torture. And there is really no other word for it; as Fili watches his brother do what has to be done to save his life. Though he is not certain who suffers most – he, the unwilling watcher; Kili, who neither knows nor can control what he is doing, or Bilbo, who did not agree to this at all.

It is a terrible mess. And for the first time Fili curses the soulmark and what it brought them.

Good fortune it was certainly not.

At least when he is spent, Kili, too, loses consciousness, and Fili can untangle the two bodies. Cleaning them feels wrong, but he knows he has to, knows that this is the least he can do, even if he again tastes bile when he sees the marks on Bilbo’s chest. His heart clenches when he catches sight of the blood on the sheets.

He closes his eyes for a moment. It would be better if he had not to involve Oin, but … it remains to be seen. Bilbo has not yet awoken, and Fili fears the moment he does. The betrayal in his eyes – Fili wants nothing more than to apologize, but he knows that if he must, he will allow it to happen again. Bilbo has no reason to forgive him.

Now he casts a last look at the resting hobbit. He has dressed him in a clean nightshirt and buried him under a mountain of blankets. Hopefully, Fili thinks, at least his sleep will be restful. He still sees the tears when he looks at Bilbo’s face.

Then he closes the door and leaves for his brother’s room.

He prays Kili does not remember.

But however this turns out, he will be at Kili’s side when he awakens and ever after.

***

Kili does not remember, but Bilbo does.

The hobbit hides in his room, huddled under his blankets for two days, refusing food and company. Fili is thrown out the moment he so much as knocks, and the others hardly fare better. Eventually, Thorin addresses the issue, and Fili feels like breaking down.

“Something happened,” he confesses, “Something… it helped Kili recover.”

He hopes his uncles will accept it not ask further questions. It’s not right, he knows that; they shouldn’t be neglecting Bilbo like this. He hasn't even brought himself to inquire after Bilbo's health, even though he was the one who cleaned up the blood. His stomach turns at the memory.

Thorin frowns. “We need the burglar when we get to the mountain,” he says, “And … I think we would all rather see him recovered before that.”

Fili’s heart breaks. “I would, too,” he says, and if his voice hitches, he can’t help it.

“But Kili is doing well?” Thorin asks.

“He is,” Fili is happy to say it. The morning after Kili had woken, bright and healthy and full of energy. Since then, he has rarely stayed at the house, and instead gone off to explore Laketown with the other members of the company. He’d also been easily convinced that Bilbo was still recovering from his cold and would rather be left alone.

Thorin sighs. “And yet the soulmate business remains unresolved,” he shakes his head, “I would have wished for better luck, but my prayers are rarely heard. Do what you must, I would first see this quest succeed, for elsewise all other affairs are naught.”

Indeed, Fili thinks, if the dragon kills them all, the soulmark will hardly matter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regardless of what happened, the journey must continue. And Bilbo finds his dwarves are changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very, very much for reading so far. This chapter is as uncomfortable as the last, so please, beware. As the summary implies, it is not only the soulmate business influencing the dwarves' behaviour.

All of a sudden a date for their departure is fixed. A nervous cheer fills their company, as preparations for the last leg of the journey are made. A boat is chartered, provisions loaded.   
  
They spend their remaining coin on weapons and warmer clothes. There is no need to save further – if they succeed, they will be rich beyond comprehension. If they fail, money will no longer matter.   
  
Yet Bilbo remains withdrawn, taking all his meals in his room, and Fili grows nervous. He understands why, truly, the one time he encountered Bilbo in the corridor the hobbit flinched and Fili promptly turned and ran to be sick outside.  
  
The memories haunt him. And yet – he cannot apologize. Not when Kili smiles at him brightly from the other side of the dinner table.   
  
Thorin is suspicious. Balin silent. Do they know, he wonders, do they know what occurred? Do the others? He isn’t certain who all is aware of the fact that Kili and Bilbo are soulmates – he can’t recall, did they tell everybody in their joy at the discovery?  
  
And those memories taste like ash.   
  
He would not have the company learn of what happened so short before reaching the mountain. Fili does not mean to have it swept under the rug; he is fully aware of his own culpability.   
  
And thus he would be happy to let Bilbo decide when he is ready to face them again; would be glad to face whatever punishment the hobbit demanded – but the world is cruel, still, and it is Fili who knocks on the door to Bilbo’s room one evening.   
  
“Who is it?” the hobbit calls. His voice sounds stifled, but calm.  
  
“Fili,” he replies.   
  
For a heartbeat, Bilbo is silent. Then. “I would rather not see you.”  
  
“I know,” Fili says in an instant, and his stomach drops, “And I would not bother you if it was not important.”  
  
“Is it your brother?” the hobbit spits, though Fili hears the tremor underneath.  
  
“No, Kili is well.” For the time being, at least. Fili is under no illusion that this is a temporary reprieve only. There will come a time when he may have to witness the same terrible act again.   
  
“What then?” Bilbo calls.  
  
“May I come in?” Fili asks, because shouting through the door is odd, and some of the things he wants to say are not for the ears of others.   
  
The silence lingers. Fili reaches for the door handle, thinking he must enter anyway, no matter what Bilbo says. He would rather have the hobbit’s permission, though.   
  
“Alright,” Bilbo agrees, “But … keep some distance, please.”  
  
Fili’s heart wants to break. He did not mean to hurt Bilbo like this – he never wanted to scare him. But it is too late to undo what happened; so Fili steps in and gently closes the door behind him. He is attentive to stay close to the wall, and takes the seat farthest from the bed he can find.   
  
Bilbo looks miserable. He is pale, seems to have lost weight, and he is clutching the blankets like a shield to his chest.   
  
Fili has half a mind to offer him an escape. Promise to take him back to the Shire on the spot; away from all the pain and horror. Yet that would eventually kill his own brother.   
  
His first instinct is to ask how Bilbo is, but he has no right to this question. Not when he helped with an act that made sure that Bilbo is most certainly not alright.   
  
“There … we will be leaving, soon,” he tells Bilbo, “I … I wanted to make certain you knew.”  
  
Bilbo nods. “I was informed.”  
  
“Also…” Fili swallows, “Kili, he doesn’t remember.”  
  
Bilbo flinches violently. “He doesn’t, does he,” he mutters softly, and closes his eyes, “Lucky for him.”  
  
Fili wants to disappear when Bilbo glares at him. It is not a harsh glare, but it is soft and filled with accusation.   
  
“I… He … he will probably seek you out,” Fili forces himself to continue, “He doesn’t remember, so he will want to be close to you and…”  
  
“And I should allow it?” Bilbo asks, “I should…” his voice breaks off. He shakes his head. “I have half a mind to ask the dragon to eat me to end this misery.”  
  
“Bilbo!” Fili calls out, and wants to reach for the hobbit. He has never meant to bring such desperation onto him. For Bilbo to speak of seeking death –   
  
“I.. you… please, don’t,” Fili can’t help but beg, “I know I wronged you, I know we … we committed a terrible crime against you, but please, please don’t do anything … hasty. I … I’m so sorry, and I wish there had been another way, but I… Kili was dying!”  
  
His eyes are burning, and Fili presses them shut for a moment.  
  
“I, too, wish there had been another way,” Bilbo echoes, and his voice sounds dead.   
  
“Bilbo,” Fili pleads, “I don’t want you to be like this. I never … please, if there is anything I can do…”  
  
“And yet, if it happened again, you would still not help me,” Bilbo replies, and his words kill Fili on the inside, because that is the truth.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he sobs, “I … just…”  
  
“You meant to save your brother,” Bilbo says, and a spark of his old warmth fills his voice, “I … cannot claim I don’t understand that. I did not want – him to die either. But I … I can’t forgive this. Do you understand?”  
   
“Of course, of course I do,” Fili exclaims, and wipes furiously at his eyes, “Of course. But please, please don’t blame Kili. He had no idea what he was doing – he still can’t remember, and he … he needs you. Hate me, blame it all on me, but please, please don’t hate my brother.”  
  
He knows that Bilbo has no reason to agree. Should not, to be quite honest.   
  
And yet, all the terror has not completely undone Bilbo’s kindness. He says nothing in reply to Fili’s pleading, but he joins the group for breakfast the next morning. And while he sits on the other end of the table from Fili and flinches when Kili wishes him a good morning, he does not draw back.   
  
Instead Fili watches him pale, smile and endure.   
  
And thinks that no punishment can balance the suffering he is putting Bilbo through.

* * *

Kili stays healthy. It turns out that Smaug has stayed healthy, too.  
  
The moment Bilbo stumbles from the tunnel, a golden chalice clutched in his hands, Kili can't help but draw his hobbit into his arms and kiss him. If Bilbo tries to push him away, the strength behind it is negligible, and everybody is far too busy admiring the chalice and rejoicing.   
  
The next time, Bilbo emerges singed, and more or less faints directly into Kili's arms. He makes certain to hold the hobbit close for the remaining evening.   
  
At some point, Bilbo stops fighting the kisses.   
  
His eyes become dead, and he retreats into a dark corner in his mind. From there, all sensations are muted, and he must not endure the roaming hands on his body. Must not face the memories, or relive the horror.   
  
Fili watches and says nothing.   
  
And then the dragon is slain.   
  
What madness Bilbo had only intermittently seen in his dwarves before, now comes to bear fully. They dive into the gold, affix each other with jewels and gemstones - and nobody seems to care about Laketown that has burned to the ground.  
  
Bilbo can understand happiness.  
  
But he can't understand this unbridled joy when just at the foot of the mountain the smoking remains of another city lie.   
  
Perhaps he is too lost in his thoughts, but he allows Kili to draw him away, pepper his face with butterfly kisses until they have reached a small side chamber. It, too, is filled with treasure, and once inside, Kili draws Bilbo close and kisses him.   
  
The hobbit's first instinct is to relax, and let Kili have his way – he has learned to blend out the kisses. But then a hand sneaks under his shirt. Bilbo flinches – and barely manages to suppress the onslaught of memories, as he reaches down to push the hand away. Kili refuses to let go, and neither does he remove his lips from Bilbo's, and the hobbit frowns.  
  
He attempts to push at Kili's shoulders, and in turn Kili's hand in his hair tightens to a painful degree. Bilbo struggles to breathe, but Kili isn't letting him go, and his chest grows tight, his vision blurs and goes dark...  
  
And then he is on his back on the gold. Cold leather is coiled around his wrists, stretching his arm overhead, and when Bilbo attempts to pull them back, the leather holds firm. Something burns hot in the corner of his eyes, and lips are ghosting over his throat.  
  
"Kili," Bilbo chokes, and can't help that it sounds like a sob, "Kili, stop, I don't..."  
  
A finger gently settles against his lips. "Hush," Kili whispers with a smile. It is a gentle expression, if not for the unholy light in his eyes. The same mad light, all dwarves share by now, and suddenly Bilbo grows afraid.  
  
This time Kili’s eyes aren’t dead and unseeing. Kili is not doing this instinctively because otherwise he will die. The dwarf knows what he is doing; there is nothing that excuses this, even if the glint in his eyes is not quite sane.  
  
"Hush," Kili repeats, "Just let me do this. I promise I will take good care of you."  
  
"Kili, don't..." Bilbo can't even finish his plea as the finger is replaced by an entire hand that presses firmly against his lips. Please no, he thinks, not again.   
  
"Relax," Kili tells him, "Just relax. I don't want to hurt you..."  
  
He chuckles to himself, and a cold shudder runs down Bilbo's spine. There is no way he could possibly relax in this situation, but he bites his lips so that no sound emerges. Kili, meanwhile, immerses himself in ridding Bilbo of his clothes.  
  
He is careful - a small comfort, really, but Bilbo has learned to be grateful for every button he retains. All too soon the waistcoat and shirt are gone, and Kili's hands reach for the laces of his breeches.  
  
Bilbo flinches. This can’t be happening again.   
  
"Please, don't," he mutters, feeling hot liquid on his cheeks and Kili bend over to kiss away the tears from his cheeks.   
  
"Don't be afraid," Kili whispers, and gently runs a hand down his torso, "I'll be careful."  
  
"Don't," Bilbo begs, but it is too quiet and hopeless, and Kili turns his attention back to Bilbo's neither regions once more. True to his word, he uses no undue force in parting Bilbo from his clothing, but neither does he allow for any protest.   
  
Tears are running over his cheeks, and Bilbo can do nothing to stop them. Nor can he stop Kili from kissing them away – the leather around his arms is unforgiving, and Kili is easily twice as strong as he is.   
  
Kili is eager and gentle, and covers all of Bilbo in kisses and caresses, and it is a nightmare. His mind keeps screaming at his to fight, to run, while another part pleads to endure, and all he is left with is the feeling of wrongness.   
  
His body responds, and he can't help the small moans and gasps that fall from his lips. Neither the pained yell once Kili enters him - rough and clumsy, but accompanied by the loveliest caresses imaginable. The dwarf is quick to kiss him, to whisper words of love into his ear.  
  
And Bilbo closes his eyes and waits for it all to be over.

* * *

Erebor is a nightmare without end for Bilbo.   
  
Once Kili releases him, he finds himself facing madness from Thorin and all the others. They will not treat with men and elves, even if there are two armies sitting on Erebor’s doorstep. They will not negotiate, even though there is nothing edible within the whole mountain.  
  
And Kili enjoys drawing Bilbo close whenever he can and pressing kisses onto him. He has become skilled at ignoring the hobbit’s protests and holding him so he can’t struggle.   
  
Bilbo feels like he is breaking on the inside, and is almost glad when Thorin dangles him from the wall and threatens him with death. But then Fili and Kili protest, and Bilbo is not allowed to join Gandalf. Neither is he left alone so he could throw himself off the mountain.   
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it gets darker, still. We have branding in this chapter - please, please, if these topics make you uncomfortable, do not read. 
> 
> Also apologies for the delayed update. I was struggling with the tone of this part, and am still not quite happy. Feel free to give me feedback on that ;)

Kili rarely lets Bilbo out of his sight.

Even talking to other dwarves – those few that will still talk to him, after the fiasco with the Arkenstone, and aren’t too busy counting their wealth - becomes a challenge. Kili grows steadily more assertive in his affections.

Bilbo begins to feel brittle. He has to force himself to slap Kili’s hands away, to stop the caresses before they grow too intimate – stop himself from freezing in terror. If he will not defend himself, Kili will do as he pleases. It’s nauseating, but Bilbo knows that if he can push Kili off, it’s because the dwarf allows it. (And that, if so desired, the dwarf can simply take whatever he wants – refusing a touch, then, seems pointless. Yet he is not quite willing to give into that desperation).

Whenever he does, Kili turns to look at him with such a hurt, desolate expression that Bilbo’s heart clenches. Clenches in spite of all that happened, because while Kili’s face is the one that haunts his nightmares, it is yet also one of wide eyes and hope.

He should not feel guilty when Kili whispers, heart-broken, “Why don’t you love me?”

Nor should he be the one seeking for an explanation when Balin looks at him and tells him, “You are his soulmate. It may be confusing, I understand, but these marks are never wrong.”

And not flinch away when Fili’s gaze turns angry for not loving his brother like he should.

At least with Thorin, Bilbo understands the reason for his anger. He avoids him, as he would prefer to avoid the entire company with two disasters hanging over his head – half of the time, he is afraid one may strike him. For the Arkenstone.

Or for not loving.

But Kili keeps him close, keeps saying things like “They shouldn’t be so angry with you, you couldn’t have known,” or, “It doesn’t matter, we will recover it once Dain arrives.”

Callused hands cup his face and Kili smiles at him. “I know this is a terrible time, but it will all turn out fine in the end. Dain will come, and then it will be alright.”

He is far too close, and Bilbo can’t budge. “What about Laketown?” he asks, “It will be an ill start of relations should it come to battle.”

“They will settle it,” Kili declares with confidence, “Once Bard realizes how greedy his demands are, we will be able to work out a treaty. With the elves, too, though that might take longer.”

He laughs, and Bilbo’s heart aches for him. It’s not Laketown’s men who are being greedy – it is the company that vengefully guards their gold, though they are about out of food.

Before he can voice his doubts, Kili kisses him on the lips. The touch is consuming and gentle, as if Bilbo was the most precious thing Kili had ever held. Yet Bilbo’s stomach rolls and clenches, and he longs to scream, to twist away and curl into a ball.

There are tears burning in Bilbo’s eyes. He does not know who he cries for; for himself, trapped and powerless and scared, or for Kili, who has a soulmate that does not feel the same.

***

Fili frightens him.

The young prince has drawn him aside, and sharply reprimanded him for rejecting Kili. “It is hurting him,” he told Bilbo, “As long as you are only half-hearted in this, you might just as well be killing him with a spoon.”

Bilbo already has his back against the wall. This is not the Fili who apologized to him, the one who understood. This Fili does not question what he is told.

So he nods and hopes he may slip away soon.

“If you do not stop rejecting him, it will not end well,” Fili says and leans forward, “Truly, Bilbo, for the sake of being my brother’s soulmate neither I nor my uncle will wish you any ill – but stop fighting it. I would not want to be in your shoes should anything befall my brother.”

He doesn’t wish for any ill to befall Kili either. Nor any of the others – and not because what this may mean for his own fate, Bilbo thinks, but because he, at one point, considered them all his friends.

Now he isn’t so sure, especially when Fili looks at him like this.

***

“You are making this unnecessarily hard on yourself,” Balin tells Bilbo when the hobbit has hidden away in a niche. Kili is with Fili and Thorin, and he is happy to have those few moments to himself, where no wandering hands will attempt to slip under his clothes.

“It will come to pass, no matter how fiercely you contest it,” Balin continues, “So, I think you’d do yourself a favor if you stopped fighting it and just went along.”

He tries to smile, “It won’t be bad – you are soulmates, after all. Don’t look so glum, master Hobbit.”

Bilbo finds he has no energy to smile. His stomach twists, and if there was anything left within, he would be throwing up. Now he only turns his gaze to the floor and says nothing. He is too exhausted to protest the dwarves’ notion concerning soulmates any longer – they are all utterly unwilling to accept the idea that he does not love Kili like that.

But more than anything, he is afraid.

Afraid of a possible battle between his dwarves and the men and elves waiting outside. Afraid of what the dwarves might do to him. Afraid of being held down again, of hands touching him where they should not and the deep pain inside that comes from a practice is body is neither attuned to, nor willing to accept.

He can barely sleep at night, but he is unsure whether the nightmares are actually worse than being awake.

*** 

They are not.

"It is only fair," Kili tells him, as holds Bilbo's head between his thighs, "I bear your mark. You should have mine."

The hobbit attempts to struggle, but Dwalin and Fili have made certain that the chains are taut and strong. Kili had initially asked to pad the manacles with fabric - Bilbo's skin bruises easily - but Dwalin had advised against it.

"They always struggle. And then something slips or the design gets blurred, and you have to do it again or redesign the entire thing," he had said. And Kili has put his heart into the design, he really has.

If there was time, he would have preferred to ink it into Bilbo's skin, but they have neither the tools nor the skill. And Kili has always been better at working with metal. So he has designed a brand, and Fili is heating it in the fire, while Kili does his best to comfort Bilbo.

The hobbit is their prisoner, though Kili does not view it this way. Thorin would have him in the dungeon for his betrayal, but Kili thinks silk and golden chains make for a better keep. He wishes Bilbo would smile again, but the hobbit does not.

Instead he looks at them with terror and desperation written across his face, and that is not what Kili ever wanted to see on the face of his soulmate. But one day in the future – hopefully not too distant – he prays he will see Bilbo smile again. Perhaps then he will also forgive what Kili will now do.

There is bound to be pain, and he wishes circumstances were in a way that would allow Bilbo to comprehend what fate has ordained. Kili understands that this is confusing for the hobbit, overwhelming – yet he is certain they will overcome this, too. Already Bilbo is more responsive to Kili’s caresses.

They have already gathered cold water, alcohol and rags - Kili will not risk an infection, not when Oin is so unhappy with Bilbo's health in general. And he knows the chosen spot - right over the heart - is risky.

"Shh, it will be quick," he tells Bilbo. Tears are running down the hobbit's face, and he mumbles something behind his gag.

"Don't worry," Kili continues, "We'll take good care of you. You're my soulmate, after all. My fate is bound to yours."

Bilbo only clenches his eyes shut, and Kili nods to Fili. His brother removes the poker from the fire, and the brand glows red. Moments later, Fili presses it down over Bilbo's heart.

The hobbit's eyes fly open, he attempts to scream, his spine bends, but the chains hold. The smell of burning flesh hits Kili's nose, while he heard the sizzling noise, but needs all his strength to hold Bilbo's body steady. The hobbit struggles with everything he has, pained gasps escaping from behind the gap, and Kili wants to stroke his hair. Instead he holds firmly onto Bilbo’s shoulders, and whispers promises until the hobbit grows limp.

When he lifts his head, Bilbo’s eyes are closed. Tearstains decorate too-pale cheeks, and Fili removes the poker, and is quick to fetch the alcohol-soaked rag to disinfect the fresh wound.

The body under Kili's hands jerks violently at the new sensation, and Bilbo's brow remains scrunched up in pain. Kili’s heart aches at the unhappiness that is painted to plainly across his soulmate’s features; how visible the strain has become on Bilbo.

He wishes Thorin would forgive him and that the entire mess could be resolved – he is certain, that once Bilbo has recovered, his soulmate will actually be able to recognize their bond. With all the other factors pressuring them, Kili thinks it is quite understandable that Bilbo cannot do so.

In the meantime, though, he will take good care of him.

***

When Bilbo wakes it is to a dull, throbbing pain on his chest. He feels warm, dizzy, but comfortable, and it takes a moment to regain his senses. Under this mountain of soft furs and blankets, all seems alright. 

Though when the world returns, it slams into him.

Bilbo sits upright with a gasp, unsettling a number of jewels and coins and metal clinks and clatters. He is still in the treasury, still in this nightmare, and it has all been real; the pain in his chest is testament to that.

For a moment his mind goes blank – he recalls Kili’s hand on his face, being held down, searing pain – and his heart stutters, and he is terrified to remember anything beyond that, terrified of his dwarves, and all he wants is to be somewhere else, is for this to be over –

He curls into a ball, and can’t help the odd, choked sounds that escape his throat. No tears leak from his eyes – he presses them shut, and fights not to let his mind undo him. Under the physical pain, something in his chest has given, shattered, and there is a dark, yawning hole in there, waiting to swallow him.

It’s beckoning, inviting – promises an escape from the fear, the constant terror, the pain; and yet Bilbo is even more afraid of what might lurk that way. If he lets himself slip away – what is to say that the dwarves won’t forcefully pull him back, hurt him even more …

His sob echoes queerly in the vast hall, disappearing before it has even reached the other end. Bilbo bites down on his lip, goes stiff in fright – but no footsteps come, and the hall remains silent.

Slowly he allows his hands to unclench, and flinches when the furs rustle.

And despair envelopes him.

This is not how his adventure was supposed to end; this is not where he thought he would be. He knew of the dangers; of course, but nobody had warned him of goldsickness, of soulmates, of that possessive madness dwarves so easily succumb to. He should have never left the Shire, should never have let himself be entranced by that mystic song –

He should have turned around once he had noticed he was not welcome. Fool he was to think this could ever end well. Or should have run after that disastrous night in Laketown – why had he thought then to see it through, why had he not turned his back then? The dwarves; at least Fili, had shown his true colors when he had held him down, and nobody, nobody ever thought to ask why he had flinched at every noise in the days after.

The despair suffocates him.

He doesn’t want to think about that night – never wanted to, and has not done so, but in the deathly silence of the treasury he cannot stop his thoughts. The hair on his arms stands, and he is assaulted by memories; the mindless trance on Kili’s face, the sadness on Fili’s – and yet he had held him down, had not helped Bilbo, no matter how he had pleaded.

It was to save Kili’s life, a voice in the back of his head reminds him, can you blame him? Wouldn’t you have done the same?

And he doesn’t know, he only knows he wished no harm on Kili. But still – the pain had lingered for days, and everybody, everybody who had known had only commented on how blessed Kili was to have a soulmate.

But nobody had ever asked him. The dwarves had not questioned what they saw, had no reason to – yet Bilbo still feels terribly abandoned and ignored. Doesn’t he have a say in this, too? Is it alright, even if Kili intimate touches make him uncomfortable, and he can barely eat?

If only that cursed mark had never shown up…

Bilbo bites down on his lip until he tastes blood. The hall is still silent, and he forces some order back into his unsettled mind.

If there dwarves are not here …

Maybe it is night and they are asleep. Maybe … maybe the battle already occurred and they all have died. Bilbo swallows at the gruesome image, but –

Whatever happened, they are gone, and Bilbo knows that he must leave or else he will fall apart and never recover.

*** 

He never makes it out of the mountain. Half-way to the gate Kili catches up with him, and gently, but firmly carries him back to the treasury. He pays no mind to Bilbo’s pleas.

Nor does any of the other dwarves. Some look slightly uncomfortable when Bilbo can’t stop himself from crying, but they simply find a reason to go somewhere else. Growing angry does not help either – Kili sets him back onto the bed built in the treasury, and then fastens a manacle around Bilbo’s left wrist.

For a moment, his breath leaves him and he stares up at Kili with unmitigated terror in his eyes.

“It’s for your own safety,” Kili tells him, “Just so… just so you do nothing stupid. And that … when the battle comes, you stay here. We will protect you in here.”

Like their gold, Bilbo thinks, and his stomach twists violently. It’s a blessing he has not eaten; especially when Kili, entranced, raises a hand to gently card his fingers through Bilbo’s curls.

His blood goes cold, and he thinks that this can’t be happening; not again; please, please not again.

Whatever Kili is looking at, Bilbo’s horror does not register. His other hand slips around Bilbo’s waist, gently lowering the hobbit on his back.

“Please, Kili, no…” Bilbo whispers.

The hand in his hair tightens, and lips descend on his own. His entire body stiffens abruptly, and he wants to keep his mouth closed, wants this to stop, for Kili to stop…

But the dwarf does not stop, and his hand wanders under Bilbo’s clothes, and Bilbo wants to cry, but it is all so very distant, so far away –

And he allows himself to slip away; to take the exit his mind provides.

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What comes to pass must pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. And the ending is not very happy. Though if you head over to the kink meme, there is an alternative ending. One that is even less happy.
> 
> Meanwhile, I am very happy and very grateful to everybody who has been reading. Thank you all very much for your inspiring comments and uplifting kudos!

Bilbo comes to when footsteps approach at a run.

He has no idea how much time has passed or what has happened – his head feels heavy, but his heart hurts more. The darkness beckons, invitingly – but it is possessive, unlikely to let go again – and there is the clatter of armor and weapons, and for a moment anxiety curls in Bilbo’s stomach.

Then he recognizes Fili’s outline in the dim light, and fear is replaced with dread.

He can’t help but curl into himself protectively when Fili makes to reach out for him.

The dwarf’s face falls. “Bilbo,” he mutters sadly, “Oh Bilbo… I’m so sorry.”

Bilbo frowns. Fili appears genuine, and the sorrow on his face is true. The mad glint has gone from his eyes, and no matter how Bilbo tries, he cannot quench the spark of hope that lights up in his heart. If at least one dwarf was to wake from this madness –

“I’m… I’m sorry, though I suppose I have no right to look for forgiveness,” the prince says and keeps his distance, “We … I do not know what came over us. Madness, perhaps, and I am very sorry for where it has led us.”

He closes his eyes and swallows. “There are … many things I would like to say. There is more than one apology I owe you – I know that now, I remember – and I would seek justice, though…”

“Fili,” Bilbo asks, voice trembling. Should the dwarf really have returned to his senses? Should there be a light in this darkness after all?

“Yes,” Fili replies and hangs his head, “I am myself again. And … I … I … there is so much, but there is no time.”

He glances up, pleading now. “Bilbo, you need to flee! There’s an army of orcs and goblins and the battle is going badly, and I would not see you felled by those despicable creatures! Take your ring and run! I will unlock these chains.”

Still, Bilbo can’t help but flinch back when Fili steps closer.

The young prince looks close to tears, as he retrieves a key and attacks the lock on the manacle. A click announces that the mechanism snaps open, and Bilbo quickly jerks his hand out of the cold metal. His wrist underneath is raw and icy, and rubbing warmth back into it seems almost impossible.

Weakly, he leans against the pillar. Fili watches him, remorse written all over his face. “I’m sorry,” he says again, “And I wish --- I wish things had gone differently. It’s … it makes sense now. Why you took the Arkenstone, everything.”

He manages a quivering smile, and for a moment seems about to draw Bilbo into his arms. “I think we all understand, but … it’s too late to make amends. Just, please, believe me, we are all sorry. And if we could, we would do anything to make it up to you. It’s … well, it just won’t happen.”

Dread coils in Bilbo’s stomach, mixing with fear. He doesn’t know if he is afraid of or for Fili right now – but to see the young dwarf makes his heart ache.

“So, please, if there is anything to make up for this mess at all,” Fili bows his head, “We will draw the orcs’ attention upon ourselves. You slip away – I know this is but a small effort, but it is all we can do for you now.”

Fili sighs. “I must return,” he says, “Fare you well, Bilbo. It was … a pleasure.”

And Fili turns on his heel to stride out, when Bilbo finally finds his voice again. “Fili,” he calls out, “The battle… it…”

“It is not going well,” Fili says, “The orcs and goblins outnumber us, five to one at least. By morning, Erebor will have been taken.”

Bilbo’s heart drops. He has not --- has not truly expected this outcome. Whatever ill he may have wished upon the dwarves suddenly seems terrible. He does not want to see any of them die.

“You have to flee, Bilbo,” Fili says, softly, “This battle is no place for a hobbit. Go home, and be at peace, and forget what ills we have brought upon you. To us, you have been the best companion possible, and I am sorry we could not be better friends to you.”

Bilbo wants to protest, but the words do not come, and then Fili is gone. He does not hear any noise from the outside, but he is terrified by Fili’s words alone. Battles are no place for hobbits, and yet he will have to ford his way through this one.

***

Bilbo is trembling when he stumbles through the gate. The darkness outside does nothing to hide the horror or mute the screams; the stench of charred flesh and blood is inescapable. His stomach rebels, and for a moment his vision wavers, but then he clutches his sword a little tighter.

All he needs to do is find a way out. Skirt around the edge and then disappear into the wild. The ring will help him; and once he is out he can make his way back.

Back to the Shire, away from this nightmare. Away from madness and desperation and groping hands and the pain in his chest.

He sucks in a deep breath and begins to make his way down. The path is steep and littered with corpses, but luckily the fight has moved away. Bilbo moves through on silent feet, trying not to look down, not to wonder whether among the dead and dying he might find a familiar face.

He tries not to think about the blood on his feet, the odd groan that fills the air as he passes. Not all here are dead, but he cannot allow himself to think that he might save even one. His heart is in his throat, and Bilbo ducks his head the moment a pair of fighters stumbles his way. An orc and an elf, their blades locked – they’d probably not have seen him without the ring, either. But Bilbo holds his breath, and warily trudges on.

The sounds grow louder, and he swallows. Already his stomach is churning and his chest aches. He feels as if he cannot breathe –

Bilbo almost misses the fallen shape, half-hidden behind a large rock. In the dim light, the glint of metal catches his eye, as does the familiar shade of dark blue – startled, he casts a second glance over his shoulder and recoils.

He wishes he had not looked.

He wants to run.

Instead, he swallows and allows his feet to carry him closer.

Kili is slumped on the ground, his bow next to him. There is a gaping hole in his stomach, and as Bilbo stares in shock, new, dark blood trickles out. Already the ground is soaked, and all Bilbo feels is numb. Petrified.

This … is not…

(But Fili told him the battle was not going well; told him that none would live to see the morning, so he ought not to be so surprised; truly, his heart ought not to hurt so).

He slumps to the ground, uncaring of the dirt and blood soaking into his skin and clothes.

Abruptly he finds he never wished any of his dwarves to die. He may have been angry at them, furious. He might have felt abandoned and betrayed and –

But he never wanted to watch any of them die.

Now, with Kili so pale, Bilbo reaches out a trembling hand.

Soulmates. That brand on his chest still hurts, and he still remembers the desperation. The feeling of helplessness, of shame. How they all just ignored his wishes, how Kili held him down and just took –

But he never wished him dead.

Suddenly Bilbo feels his eyes are burning, and he gently brushes a strand of hair out of Kili’s face. The skin under his fingers is cool and clammy and the idea that Kili should never smile again breaks his heart.

The battle has moved from this place; testament to it the dead and their discarded weapons. Blood and worse stains the ground, but Bilbo does not care. He could not move, not even to save his own life.

Then Kili’s eyelashes flutter and Bilbo jerks back with a gasp.

The young dwarf coughs; a wet, hacking sound that brings fresh blood to his lips. This is not the kind of wound one can recover from; Bilbo knows that. Weakly, Kili clutches at his stomach, turns his gaze to the overcast sky –

And he looks so young and forlorn, and hopeless –

“Kili,” Bilbo calls out, softly, “Kili.”

If his voice breaks, it is of no consequence. The dwarf glances in his direction, and his eyes are weary, fatigued – as if he was waiting for it all to be over.

He shouldn’t be like this, Bilbo thinks, he shouldn’t be awaiting death so eagerly. Kili ought to be young and lively and vibrant, and this is horribly and utterly wrong. Confusion passes over Kili’s face, an odd sound leaves his throat, and Bilbo abruptly recalls that he is still wearing his ring.

With a choked sob, he rips it off and tosses it aside.

“Kili,” he calls, because whatever is to come, he wants to banish that haunted expression from Kili’s eyes.

And this time there is a spark of recognition.

“Bilbo,” Kili whispers, his voice full of wonder, “I …” . Instead of words, only blood comes from his lips.

“Shh,” Bilbo says, with tears in his eyes, “Be calm, Kili, it’s … it’s fine.”

He catches the quivering hand Kili is attempting to raise; catches it and draws it gently to his own chest. A pained smile crosses Kili’s face.

“I… you were right,” Kili whispers, “You … all along. And … I … I’m sorry.”

Bilbo hangs his head. “Don’t apologize,” he says, “Don’t. Just … hang on. We’ll, it’ll all be alright.”

Kili shudders, and coughs weakly. It brings a fresh bout of blood to his lips. “I’m sorry,” Kili says and his voice is barely audible, “But I … I did … love you. … Truly.”

And Bilbo can’t help that the brand twinges at those words. That he recalls being held down, metal against his wrist, fear and panic and pain –

He swallows and forces the memories aside before they can devour his mind. There will be time – and he has always thought himself rather skilled at telling little white lies.

So he smiles warmly at Kili, and hopes the dwarf notices, though he seems to be drifting farther and farther away. “And you have, and always will be, dear to me,” he says.

It’s … no lie.

He has always liked Kili, he never wished for this fate. His affections may have been marred and distorted by the entire soulmate business and its unfortunate consequences, but he has never found himself capable of hating Kili.

Even after all that was done to him.

Bilbo shudders. “It will all be fine,” he whispers, and doesn’t know whether he is saying it to Kili or to himself.

The hand in his grows lax. Kili’s eyes close, and even without feeling for a pulse, Bilbo knows that he has passed. With a small sigh, he lets his own shoulders slump, feeling numb and terrible at the same time.

He doesn’t even hear the sounds of battle any longer – it has all molten into a constant din of clattering weapons and scream. It seems so meaningless – with Kili’s blood soaking into his trousers, Bilbo wonders if Erebor is worth this. Was worth the countless dangers they faced – is worth so many deaths.

Bilbo remains where he is, bowed over Kili’s cooling body, the dwarf’s hand clutched between his.

It is where the battle eventually finds him.

Bilbo is first drawn from his thoughts when a familiar voice calls out nearby. He twists around to see Gloin swinging his axe, felling orc after orc, followed by another dwarf who is ducking and stabbing, and all of a sudden there is a loud roar in Bilbo’s ears.

He gasps, and grasps for his sword, but it’s not there, and his ring is gone, too, and his heart is in his throat. A shadow falls across him, and whips around, stumbling to his feet, just to dodge away from an orc blade at the very last moment.

Bilbo stumbles aside, clumsily, the orc smirks, and his voice is stuck in his throat. His foot catches on a root, and Bilbo tumbles down, backwards, and he thinks that this is it, this is the end, but the blade passes harmlessly over his chest, the orc curses and he hits his head against something.

All of a sudden, the world is askew, but he pushes himself up, his pulse racing. He’ll die, and his knees are weak, and the orc is a blur in the darkness, the blade a glint of silver in the night. Something rings, and he hears a shout, and suddenly he is shoved backwards, hard, against a rock.

The impact makes his head ring, and his vision fades out.

When it returns, it is to a familiar face looking down at him. Bilbo blinks, terror and shock mingling, while Fili gives a weak, bloody smile, and collapses onto the ground.

And Bilbo finally sees the sword piercing through his gut.

He might have screamed. But if he did, he never heard it. All he remembers is an all-encompassing sensation of despair and terror and then the world disappeared.

***

Bilbo comes to in a dusty tent, with Gandalf peering intently down at his face. He feels utterly worn out, shattered, and it tells that he only gasps in surprise at the wizard’s presence. But it’s still enough to set his heart pounding and his head spinning.

Gandalf frowns. “It’s good to see you awake,” he tells Bilbo, “Though I had hoped you would be better.”

Bilbo forces himself to catch Gandalf’s eyes. There are –

Many thing connected to the wizard he does not want to think about. It’s as if there is a blanket covering his emotions; and he knows that what is hidden underneath is terrible, mind-shattering, and he really, really is too exhausted to face this now.

“If you are interested, though,” Gandalf continues, “We won, thanks to Beorn who arrived at the very last moment. It would have probably not turned out this well otherwise.”

Well? Turned out well?

He remembers the battle, little of it that he has seen, and his stomach lurches. The ground had been soaked in blood, and he remembers severed limbs and head, and maimed bodies and the stench –

Gandalf sighs at Bilbo’s grimace. “Many more lives would have been lost without Beorn,” he amends, “And we would not have won. Though it certainly came at a price.”

Bilbo nods and closes his eyes for a short moment. It is long enough to remember Fili looking down at him, some strange expression in his eyes – grief, guilt and relief? -  and Kili, looking far too young to be lying motionless and bloodied on the ground.

At a price. Indeed.

“Who…”, he begins, and his voice catches, “Who else died?”

Gandalf frowns, but Bilbo does not want to think on his expression. The wizard’s hesitation, though, makes dread spread through his chest. (Strange, hadn’t he felt numb just moment before? Hadn’t he thought himself beyond emotions by now, after so much terror and grief? How come his heart isn’t dead?)

“Thorin and his nephews,” Gandalf confesses, “Among a number of elves, men and dwarves from the Iron Hills. I must confess I do not know many of their names.”

Bilbo nods. A strange feeling blossoms within him. Three dead, but – should the rest of the company have survived? He bites his lip, unsure what to think – a part of him seeks to rejoice, another recalls those dead, and those terrible last days he dares not remember in detail.

“Thorin … he asked for you before he passed,” Gandalf continues, after a moment. Bilbo knows that the wizard is watching him closely, categorizing his reactions – but he hopes that, for once, Gandalf will not keep any secrets.

“Though you were still unconscious, then. It did take a good while for you to wake up, far longer than I or any of the healers anticipated,” Gandalf says.

Bilbo remembers the nothingness and shudders. To him, there is little between the battlefield and now, but he knows that time has passed. And he knows that it is surprising that he did manage to come back from the darkness. (When it had tempted him, before, it whispered of exits without return, of blanketing his mind forever).

Gandalf eyes him speculatively. Can the wizard guess that his unconsciousness stemmed from more than a head injury?

“You should recover, now,” Gandalf says, “Though Thorin … well, he told me to convey his deepest apologies. Before the end he realized that you had been right all along, and asked me to ask you for forgiveness on his behalf. He would have parted from you as a friend, should you be willing.”

Worrying his lip, Bilbo nods. Thorin – he thinks he can forgive him for the Arkenstone business. Or at least, he can say so. With Thorin dead, it is over.

As is the soulmate business.

He never wished Kili or Fili dead, but he cannot deny the tickle of relief that runs down his spine.

It is all over. Done, and over, and he can leave. He can go home. Back to the Shire, away from this nightmare, aware from strange marks and madness in his friends’ eyes.

Bilbo relaxes back against the pillow. “I … I can go back, then?”

The wizard raises an eyebrow. “Once you are sufficiently recovered, certainly. Though, I believe your companions have missed you quite dearly.”

Have they now? Bilbo will not deny fond feelings for them – but it remains that they were there during the nightmare. Were there and did nothing to help him, and that still stings. Mad they may have been, but what happened went beyond goldsickness, and they make him remember.

“Well,” Bilbo says and closes his eyes. He is tired, suddenly. Very, very tired.

“Maybe some other time.”

*** 

In the end, he avoids his dwarves almost completely. The elvish healers are glad to keep the dwarves out of their tents, and Bilbo pretends to have never heard of the offers to move to Erebor, to claim this or that treasure, and if Gandalf grows suspicious – well, Bilbo is happy to leave those terrible memories where they are.

He begs out of the burial. A part of him feels ashamed, reclining in his bed, when everybody else is out, seeing the Durin’s off. And for this, he allows himself to resummons the good memories. Of those days before Laketown, when they all shared jokes around the campfire.

His heart aches.

But when he, the next day, just out of curiosity, takes a short stroll towards Erebor, he comes to suddenly realize that he knows the spot, passed it the night of the battle. And to his left had been an orc, his right side badly torn open, across from him an elf with a leg missing, and severed head, and behind that there had been blue fabric and –

He wakes back on his cot in the healing tent.

“Whatever happened to you?” Gandalf asks, worried.

Bilbo swallows and tastes bile. “I … I don’t know.”

The wizard’s frown deepens, and then, with some sadness, he seems to realize that Bilbo cannot stay.

When he leaves, the dwarves are heartbroken – and for a moment Bilbo feels the old affection well up in his chest, and turns to embrace them. One last time, that he can do. One last time, and then he will turn his back on this nightmare.

Bofur is crying, openly crying, as is Ori and Bifur is so very careful to hug him. Dwalin wipes at his eyes and apologizes, says he would offer his life for redemption if Bilbo would have it, and Balin hangs his head and admits they have all shamed themselves, and then Nori steps in and says they hope that he will recover, that the treasury of Erebor is his to use…

And Bilbo is overwhelmed.

***

They may have parted on good terms, but it only lasts until Bilbo reaches Mirkwood. The darkness brings nightmares. At first, Bilbo does not remember them, only waking up to his pulse racing, and tears soaking into his pillow. Then they begin to take shape.

The lid Bilbo keeps on his memories during daytime grows brittle. He becomes exhausted, again. In his heart, two parts are at war. There is one part of him that recalls the good memories, the fond times. How welcome the dwarves have made him feel, their promises at their parting having brought tears to his eyes.

And at the same time, there are the nightmares. Horror, hands at his throat, blood on the ground – feeling betrayed, helpless, abandoned. Pain, both in body and in mind. Metal around his wrist. Emptiness.

Between the two, Bilbo feels he must fall apart. But he clings on, fights to keep aloof. Soon he will be home, and then he can put it all behind him. Close this chapter, and go back to being a respectable hobbit.

Turn this adventure into nothing but a fleeting dream.

Gandalf eyes him with concern, and is rather reluctant to part. But he has business to see to, and they have reached the borders of the Shire, and Bilbo is, at least in some dark corner of his heart, not sad to see him go. With Gandalf fades one of the last, constant reminders.

Home is balm to his heart. But, much like the mark branded into his skin, the memories do not disappear. He can ignore them, suppress them, though he can’t stop the nightmares. So he picks battles with Lobelia, tends to his garden like a madman – for it allows him to collapse into his pillows from exhaustion.

Eventually, under the curious eyes of children at a late summer’s festival, he caves. He tells them of trolls and goblins. Of noble dwarves, elves and men. Of talking to a dragon.

Only the good memories, though. He makes certain the bad ones remain in his nightmares – and he knows that, eventually (like those memories of the Fell Winter) they will grow fewer. It takes a good deal of conviction and determination.

But after a long, long time, the terror finally begins to fade.

_Fin_


End file.
